The Snow King
by Guilty Bird
Summary: I am the stuff of folklore, the name whispered to children to explain why the cold and dark exist. They call me the Snow King, but I was once human. [male!Elsa]
1. Chapter One

**Chapter One**

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**A/N: **I wanted to write a story about a male!Elsa so yeah.

**Disclaimer: **The cover image for this fic is artwork by juhaihai from tumblr.

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_You may have heard of me._

_I am the stuff of folklore, the name whispered to children to explain why the cold and dark exist. When frost nips at their feet and their breath becomes white with the coming of winter, they begin to see my dark silhouette stretch past their windows. They say that I am an immortal, pale and hard of skin, with terrible icy powers – that I live in a palace of impenetrable ice surrounded by an eternal snowstorm._

_They call me the Snow King, but I was once human._

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I was the firstborn son of a king and queen who ruled over a now long-forgotten kingdom called Arendelle. It was a small but prosperous realm tucked away in the icy mountains of an obscure region. My parents were wise and kind rulers, and well-beloved by their people.

I was born on a summer day, and the kingdom celebrated with three days of joyous festivities to welcome their crown prince. It may have well continued for a full week, if the incident hadn't happened.

It hadn't escaped anyone's notice that my coloring didn't take after my parents'. My mother's hair was dark brown and my father's was strawberry-blonde; they were both fair-skinned and blue-eyed, like much of the people of Arendelle. I, on the other hand, was born with platinum-blonde hair and skin as pale as snow. People have said that if it weren't for my bright blue eyes, it would have looked as if all the color had been sucked out of me before birth. But despite my odd appearance, I could have been just like any other child in the kingdom if my powers hadn't manifested.

Of course, I do not remember what happened; my parents told me years later the events surrounding my strange infancy. Despite all the strange and bizarre things they say about me – some of which are true – it _is _true that I was once just a normal baby boy. As it turns out, it was at the end of the third day of festivities when they were putting me to sleep in my crib, that I raised a tiny hand and pointed at the ceiling. Even at such a young age, my powers were potent: right before their horrified eyes, sparkling, finely grounded particles of ice began to snow down to the ground.

The festivities were immediately brought to an end as my parents tried to decide what to do with me.

Traditionally, babies who were born with deformities or abnormalities were left in the mountains overnight, to be put at the mercy of the cold or the wild animals.

This sounds cruel, but you must understand – small, quiet kingdoms such as Arendelle tend to be defined by their homogeneity. Everyone looks like each other, talks like each other, and even think and feel the same way. The one thing they hate most is the unordinary, because the unordinary implies the unknown. And in a realm fraught with danger at every misstep, the unknown means death.

Ice cutting? Better know the ice thickness, lest every man and horse fall into the freezing water.

Traveling by sled? Better know where the wolves rampant in the kingdom were last spotted, lest you run into a pack.

Hiking up the mountain? Better stick to the path, lest you fall to your death over a hidden ledge.

Fortunately for me however, my mother was unusually gentle of heart, and she couldn't bear to abandon me. And so, with a promise to each other to keep my power carefully under wraps, they made the decision to raise me as a normal child. I was thus blessed with a mostly ordinary, happy childhood.

But why am I talking about just myself?

One of the most treasured moments of my life happened in the winter of the third year of my life, when my parents welcomed another child – this time, a baby girl. To their great relief, she was a wonderfully ordinary child, with fair skin and tufts of hair the color of my father's strawberry-blonde hair. Her name was Anna, and in her honor, the celebratory festivities went on for a full week.

By that age, I had managed to gain some measure of conscious control over my powers, and my parents had relaxed enough with me that I was allowed to roam freely throughout the palace.

One of my earliest memories is of sneaking into Anna's nursery room at night, while everyone else was sleeping. As isolated as I was, I had never met anyone else smaller than me so I was naturally intrigued. Of course, there was always a nurse with baby Anna, but I timed my visits for when I knew the nurse would have fallen asleep.

My visits were never long. I would just go in and look with fascination upon Anna's small form snuggled warmly against the blankets. Even back then, she always had a smile on her face, with a thumb tucked inside her mouth. She was also usually asleep, but I remember one time when I peered through the openings of the crib, a pair of big blue eyes met mine, catching me by surprise.

As I watched, she began to gurgle excitedly at the sight of me, pumping her plump fists into the air. Noticing that the nurse was stirring, I hurriedly stepped closer to the crib to quiet her.

"Shhh Anna," I whispered, reaching through the opening with my hand.

It seems impossible now, but in that instant she seemed to understand my intent. Falling quiet, she looked up at it, and then reached up and put her tiny hand in mine.

That was probably the first time in my life I felt what it means to be warm.


	2. Chapter Two

**Chapter Two**

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As soon as she was able, little Anna was toddling around the palace, at first on all fours and then on both legs. And as soon as I'd proven to my parents that I wouldn't harm her, I was right there with her, showing her all the little nooks and crannies I'd discovered.

The palace was large, and though I was only allowed in certain wings of the palace which were closed to outsiders, it was certainly enough for the simple games my sister and I played together. There was a corridor of gleaming steel knights, an expansive library filled with tomes stretching from top to bottom, a gallery room filled with funny paintings, a waiting room with plenty of expensive furniture to hide behind in games of hide-and-seek...

And when Anna tired of walking around, I would entertain her with my powers.

Even now, it is difficult to explain what it feels like to have my powers. Since I was born with them, I do not know what it would feel like to be without them. I was also encouraged my entire life to not talk about it, to not let outsiders see them – to conceal them.

But if I were to hazard a guess, I would probably say the feeling is akin to feeling your blood flow through your body. The power is not separate from me, it is a part of me, and feeling it sing through my body is as natural to me as is breathing.

As a result of my power, there is one easily discernible difference between myself and most normal human beings, and it is that my body temperature is naturally lower than theirs. On the plus side, the cold doesn't bother me – I could run through a snowstorm completely naked and feel just fine. However, inevitably, whenever outsiders touched me, they flinched because my skin felt cold. Even my parents, when I crept up behind them with their noticing, would sometimes jerk in surprise.

But Anna never did.

Everyone else I'd ever shown my power to always recoiled and reacted with fear. They had grown without magic in their lives, and the fear of the unknown had long since hammered itself into their minds. But Anna was different. She was fearless. She loved the shows I would put on for her. Using my power, I could easily keep her distracted for hours on end. With a flick of a wrist, I could make snow burst into intricate geometrical shapes in the air. With a wave of a hand, I could create mini snow hills for her to slide down. With a twirl of my hands, I could build snowmen of all different sizes and shapes...

Yes, I utterly spoiled her. Anna quickly figured out that anything she wanted, with just a little wheedling she could get it from her older brother. Miraculously, her natural disposition was quite bubbly and selfless – if a little too daring – so the only thing that really changed was that I sometimes ended up having some sleepless nights.

I shouldn't have spoiled her so. No – it was never her fault. I should have heeded my parents' warnings more and been more careful about my power. I had grown overconfident in my ability and used it virtually every day at my every whim. It was a part of me, and I thought I had full control over it. I thought it was harmless.

I was wrong.

It happened when I was eight years old, and Anna was five. I was sleeping in my bedroom, when I felt something clamber on top of me and shake me.

"Elson! Wake up, wake up, wake up!" A voice whispered. I didn't have to open my eyes to know who it was and exactly what she wanted.

"Anna, go back to sleep..." I'd had a long day, filled with lessons in fencing, history and politics with tutors.

"I just can't!" Pushing herself up the side of my bed, Anna flopped herself down on top of me. "The sky's awake. So I'm awake. So we have to play!"

"Go play by yourself!" Finally opening my eyes, I pushed her playfully off the bed. With a flump, I heard her land on the floor, but soon enough, she was squirming back on top of me.

"Do you want to build a snowman?" Anna asked, smiling sweetly in that manipulative way of hers. And of course then I had to go.

Letting Anna lead me by the hand, we raced down the stairway to the ballroom – our choice location for nighttime getaways – laughing the whole way.

I started off with the usual opening trick, swirling my hands and releasing some of the icy power that ran through my veins into the open. It burst into a beautiful shower of ice particles which scattered down to the floor around us.

"This is amazing!" Anna squealed, jumping up and down excitedly. I smiled; no matter how many times I showed that to her, she never seemed to tire of it.

"Watch this," I said, putting my foot firmly down on the ground, letting the power flow outwards there. A sheet of blue ice swiftly spread across the ballroom floor, and giggling, Anna began to slip and slide in circles.

I don't know how much time passed that night as I turned the ballroom into a mini winter wonderland. We jumped into piles of pure white glowing snow, built snowmen, threw snowballs at each other, skated across the ice propelled by my power... I was tired, but Anna's happy smiles and laughter was enough for me to keep going.

And then the accident happened.

After challenging Anna to build a snowman bigger than the one I'd created, I was beginning to doze off when I heard her shout out "Catch me!"

My eyes flew open just in time to see her throw herself into the air from on top of a snow hill.

My hand shot forward to cast a pile of snow below her to catch her. I wasn't alarmed, because this was a common game we'd played before. She would jump from pile to pile, and the game was over when she touched the ground. We'd gotten very good at it. But that night, Anna was either jumping quicker than usual or my reactions were sluggish from lack of sleep.

She jumped again, and I cast another pile of snow. She jumped again and my hand shot forward just in time to make another pile. She jumped again and I barely just made it again. Again, and – just barely.

"Wait, slow down!" I said nervously. But she was laughing and couldn't hear me. She jumped again just as I'd casted a pile, and in a panic to cast another one, I fumbled – the next thing I knew, I was slipping on the icy floor. Eyes wide, I saw Anna jumping into midair and begin to plummet down to the ground – reacting instinctively, my hand shot forward again, but this time, instead of a pile of snow, shards of snow materialized and struck Anna in the head.

In horror, I watched as she hit the peak of a snow hill and tumble down to the floor. Her eyes were closed, and she was still. Picking myself up, I raced to her side and picked her up. She was limp, and even as I watched, a streak of her hair began to turn pale blonde – the same color as my own.

Trembling, I bent down over her and scooped her tiny body up in my arms. I staggered, but she was a five-year-old girl and I was an eight-year-old boy. With her in my arms, I began to race to the door. I didn't know what was wrong with Anna. All I knew was that I had to get her to our parents – they would know what to do. In my panic, I didn't notice that my fear was causing the ice power to radiate out of my body in waves. Frost was stretching out across the walls of the ballroom.

"Mama! Papa!" I shouted, trying to kick open the door. I looked down hurriedly at Anna, and was alarmed to see that her face was growing pale. "Help!" I added desperately.

I still do not know whether it was my calls or a parental instinct that brought my parents down to the ballroom. Or perhaps it was the tendrils of ice that were invading the palace that had warned them.

With the sound of frost cracking, the doors burst open and my parents rushed in.

"Elson, what have you done?" My father asked, looking around the frozen ballroom. "This is getting out of hand!" Spotting Anna lying still in my arms, their eyes widened in horror.

"I'm sorry," I said tremulously as my mother took Anna from me.

"She's ice cold!" said my mother faintly.

"We need to take her to a fire," said my father worriedly.

I followed my parents to their bedroom. Tucking Anna into the warm goose down comforter in their bed, they stoked a hot fire in the fireplace. Soon, several servants began to rush in with hot water and compresses.

Sitting in a dark corner, I kept out of their way, watching over Anna's pale, unmoving form with terrified eyes. Eventually, my father realized that the area around me was freezing over from my influence, and gently moved me back to my bedroom.

"Elson..." my father said, looking down at me with a weary look on his face.

"I'm sorry," I repeated miserably, avoiding his gaze. "I won't do it again." I flinched as a surge from my body spawned another layer of frost across the floor.

"Elson, your power is only growing as you grow older," he said quietly. "You'll learn to control it, I'm sure...but until then, perhaps you shouldn't use it in front of Anna anymore."

"At all?" I asked, my eyes widening.

"At all," he confirmed. "We will lock the gates, reduce the staff, and limit your contact with people to keep your powers hidden from everyone...including Anna."

"What if she forgets about my powers?" I asked, a lump rising in my throat.

"I'm sorry Elson, but this will be the best way to keep Anna safe," said my father heavily.

It was a long, terrible week, but gradually, Anna's skin returned to its normal warmth. Her eyes opened again and soon, she was running around the palace wings laughing once more. The only lingering sign of the accident was the pale blonde streak in her hair.

But from then on, we did not play together. I did not perform any more magic tricks for her, and we did not build any more snowmen. Over the years, her early childhood memories of my powers even faded, though she never did stop knocking on my door, pestering me to build a snowman with her.

And so began my years of isolation.

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**A/N: **Yeah no, I didn't want to write about cute little rock goblins or Olaf the happy snowman.


	3. Chapter Three

**Chapter Three**

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"Elson, come on! It's snowing, let's build a snowman!"

"Go away, Anna."

Even now, looking back, the memory of her confused, hurt voice pains me. How many times must have Anna knocked on my door, trying to get me to come out and play with her?

Sitting alone in that dark room with nothing to do but look out the window...more than once, I was sorely tempted to leave. My feet urged me to walk to the door and my hands tensed up, begging me to turn the doorknob.

A voice deep inside of me whispered to me –

Just open the door. Let the light shine in the room, and you could be free of this darkness! You won't hurt anyone. You can control it.

But I never did.

I was terrified of what my power could do to other people. My power which had once sung to me became a siren trying to lull me into the inky black depths of a sea I would never be able to pull myself free from. At first its calling was gentle, but gradually it became tainted and vicious, ebbing in strength according to how strongly I resisted its voice. The power didn't emerge in swirls and streams anymore; it seeped out of me angrily in waves, furious at my persistent denial.

To be fair however, I was not completely alone. At least, not at first. My lessons continued with an elderly tutor who had watched over me since I was young and knew all about my power. Twice a week, I went outside for an hour to have horse riding lessons with the palace horse keeper. And my parents checked in on me at least once a day, keeping my spirits up with their ever-encouraging words and their daily reports of the things Anna had managed to break that day.

One day, my father even brought me a pair of gloves, telling me it should help me contain my power.

"Conceal it," he began the mantra.

"Don't feel it," I said.

"Don't let it show," we finished together.

But despite both our efforts, as I grew older, my power continued to grow stronger and increasingly out of my control. One day when I was thirteen, after a particularly trying lesson in trade and marketing, I threw my hands up in frustration. To my horror, a sheet of ice erupted out of the ground, piercing and cracking through the wooden table with a terrible sound. My tutor was so alarmed, he jumped to his feet despite his old age. I watched, frozen, as he slipped on the ice and lurched backwards. As if in slow motion, he fell, his widened yellow eyes looking straight into my own.

My shocked hollers brought a passing maid into the room, and though her eyes widened at the sight of the ice and the unmoving man, she immediately ran for my parents. They soon came bursting into the room, dressed in full royalty regalia – they'd likely had to leave an important meeting for me.

After seeing to it that the tutor was carried back to his room, my parents worriedly turned towards me.

"I'm scared! It's getting stronger," I told them fretfully, pacing around the room, wringing my gloved hands. "What do I do?"

"Getting upset only makes it worse," my father said firmly, stepping towards me with an outstretched hand. "Calm down."

"No! Don't touch me," I yelped, flinching away against the wall. Noticing my father's hurt expression, I hastened to explain. "I'm sorry. I just don't want to hurt you."

I didn't want to hurt my family. I didn't want to hurt anyone...but above all, I didn't want to hurt Anna.

"Elson, do you wanna build a snowman?" Her cheerful voice would call out to me from outside my door. "It's snowing crazily out there! Or – or – if you don't like the cold – we could ride a bike around the halls or something!"

"Go away, Anna."

This was always followed by a sigh, and then the sound of dragging footsteps.

You must understand – I loved my sister very much, even more than I loved my parents. But at the same time, I never wanted to be near her. Initially, my aversion had been powered by the terror of hurting her the way I had done before. But after years passed and that terror had dulled, an even greater fear had settled in – a fear of being rejected by her when she discovered who I truly was. It was one thing for a five year old to love your magic shows, and quite another for a young girl, soon a young woman, to do the same. Or so I thought at the time.

Although my tutor had recovered, the man could no longer look me in the eyes anymore, and after a while my father had to take over my education. At the same time, I also stopped my fencing and horseback riding lessons. But that's not to say that I wasted away in a room feeling sorry for myself. Instead, I turned my interests toward architecture. Having spent years looking out my bedroom window over the spiraling towers of the palace and the distant tiled rooftops of the kingdom below, I'd grown interested in their structures. It was fascinating to me that such tall and spindly buildings could hold themselves up, and I threw myself into poring over archives of architectural designs and blueprints.

In this manner, the years slowly passed by. The durations of time in between Anna's hesitant knockings on my door grew longer and longer. Meanwhile, the struggle to contain my power became a constant effort, and though I never managed to completely control it, I grew used to the strain. Sometimes, it felt like I was on the verge of having it under control, but then another spasm would run through my body and ice would crack mockingly around me. It was almost like I was running a race, a race in which the finish line raced ahead of me just a tiny bit faster no matter how hard I ran.

Physically, I'd grown into a tall, quiet young man. Though I had my hair cut and parted in a similar style as my father, my face greatly resembled my mother's with the shape of her eyes and her gently sloping nose. However, I have been told that there was a solemn, stately presence to me that took after my father's.

"You look quite princely," Sofie told me one day, regarding me thoughtfully over the top of her broom.

Sofie was the maid who'd accidentally come into my room when my tutor fell. She had been substituting for her sick mother that day, which was why she hadn't known to avoid the wing I dwelled in. Several weeks after that day, she wandered into my room and laughed at my stunned expression. And when her mother died later that year, my parents took pity on her and employed her in the castle as a maid.

After several encounters, we started to greet each other and then before I realized it, we started to talk. And soon, these talks turned into conversations.

"Hello Prince Elson!" This was how it always started.

"Good evening, Sofie."

"What's that you're looking at today?"

"Oh, these are some modifications I've thought of for the chapel. I've heard that the choir is always crowded in the limited space in the chancel, so I was thinking that implementing a balcony above the altar would work quite well in conjunction with the chapel's acoustics..."

We weren't friends, but we weren't just acquaintances. At first I was stiff and distant – but while Sofie knew that there was something odd about me, she didn't seem scared. And so I gradually warmed up to her, though I always maintained a certain distance between us. It must have seemed funny to her, my odd aversion to physical contact – and on days when I was too worn down by the struggle to contain the power, I refused to open the door. But to my relief, she always took it in stride and never questioned it.

The days that I talked with Sofie list among my happiest memories of that time. Some days, she would listen to me talk excitedly about the new blueprints of architectural structures my parents had brought me, and look over designs with me. Other days, when I had nothing new to show her, she would fill in the silence with what she knew. And the things that she knew! She was only three years older than me and most certainly less educated, but she was filled with stories. They weren't terribly exciting stories, as most of them concerned the daily happenings of the people she interacted with outside the palace, but Sofie had a talent for weaving epics out of nothing. I found myself looking forward to our brief meetings, during which she would regale me with a continuation of the stories of the perpetually barking dog and the neighbor that always burned their bread. When she talked, in that light, lilting way of hers, I could almost forget why I was locked away in that room...

But I must admit, it wasn't just her stories that I looked forward to. At some point over the years, my body had begun to change, and I'd begun to notice things I hadn't as a child.

Sofie was attractive, with long blonde hair and bright green eyes. More than once, my treacherous eyes were drawn to the soft curves of her body and my hand longed to touch her hair, to try and see if it really was as soft as it looked.

You may be wondering why I could talk to Sofie and not, for instance, my sister Anna. The reason, I'm sorry to say, is entirely selfish. When I first met Sofie, I was so starved for human interaction with someone near my own age, that I allowed myself to forego the normal precautions I took around people. Anna, the person I cared for most in the entire world, had become a stranger to me over the years – but I knew that this was the safest way for her to live. Sofie on the other hand, was a stranger with no relation to me, and even if I lost control – well, the loss wouldn't be so hard to bear. But as time passed by, and I found myself caring more and more about Sofie, I couldn't bear to cut relations with her the way I had with Anna. At least, not at first.

One spring day, just a few months before my eighteenth birthday, Sofie came to my room. For once, instead of the usual dark maid uniform, she was in a long, pretty green dress that brought out the color of her eyes. And in place of the broom in her hand, she held an elegant matching hat.

"Hello Prince Elson," she said with a curtsy.

"What's the occasion?" I asked, trying not to stare.

"I'm leaving," she told me. Caught off-guard, my mouth dropped open uncouthly. But unable to find the words to say, I closed it again. "My aunt knows a merchant in the Southern Isles who's been looking for a wife for his second son."

"So far away...?" I said quietly.

"It's not so far away. Only a few days by sea."

But considering I hadn't left the palace walls in the past ten years, that might as well have been halfway across the world from me.

"Do you have to go?" I finally asked.

"I can't stay here forever," Sofie said, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. Her scent, a slight mixture of fruit and flowers, wafted over to me. "And I've always wanted my own family."

"But...we'll be lacking maids..." I was really grasping at straws now.

"My younger cousin will take my place. She's an excellent worker...and besides, I was a terrible maid," she joked. Sofie had sometimes gotten in trouble for losing track of time while talking to me and not finishing all of her cleaning duties. When I didn't respond, the smile faded from her face.

Silently, she began walking closer towards me – closer than she'd ever come before. I didn't move. She came to a stop just before me, and with an unreadable look on her face, she lifted a hand to my face. Hypnotized, I let her touch my pale cheek. And then raising a hesitant hand, I mirrored her. Then, I let my hand fall through the long hair cascading down by the sides of her face and finally discovered that it was indeed as soft as it had looked.

The realization that she was truly going to leave spiked through my body. Suddenly, it felt as if something had taken a hold of my heart and squeezed it – the pain was unbearable. I opened my mouth to speak – and then realized that a layer of white frost was rapidly creeping up the wall behind her. My heart rapidly plummeted. Letting my hand drop to my side, I took a step back away from her.

Seeing the look on my face, Sofie turned around. Catching sight of the wall freezing over, she let out a startled gasp. Then, she turned to look back at me, and for the first time since I had met her, I saw a flicker of fear in her eyes.

Without another word, she turned and left, and I never saw her again.

Thinking back on it, I sometimes wonder how things may have turned out differently. But that is all just wishful thinking. And so, the only thing I had left of my first love was the memory of the way her long blond hair tumbled down her slender back as she fled the room...

It was not a happy year.

In the winter, my parents visited the kingdom of Corona for a wedding. They got caught in the middle of a terrible storm at sea and never made it back home.

It shames me to remember it, but I locked myself away in my room when I heard the news, and didn't emerge for a long time. I even missed their funeral, making my younger sister deliver the funeral address. In my distress, as if making up for its relative dormancy for the past few years, my power suddenly swelled to even higher levels, covering my bedroom in multiple layers of thick frost and ice. The air was thick with swirling snow, making the windows rattle as if a storm was raging against them.

Sitting in a corner, I repeated to myself over and over my father's mantra.

"Conceal it...don't feel it...don't let it show..."

The day of the funeral, I heard a pair of light footsteps stop by the door that I hadn't heard in a while.

"Elson...please...I know you're in there," I heard her voice say brokenly through the door. "People are asking me where you've been. They say have courage and I'm trying to...but...I need you with me. Elson, I'm right here for you, really...so just let me in...please...we only have each other. It's just you and me now. What are we gonna do...?"

I didn't answer her, and that was the last time Anna knocked on my door.

I had thought I had known solitude, but suddenly, it was so silent around me that I felt overwhelmed. My parents – the two people who knew what I was but had unconditionally accepted me were now gone. And as the crown prince, I would be expected to eventually take the throne and lead this kingdom.

Me! A boy, not even yet a man, who was terrified of _himself, _and I was supposed to suddenly take over everything my parents had done. I would have to interact with the real world – I was going to have to be in perfect control at all times. I couldn't ever show who I truly was, I couldn't let anyone know. I would have to be strong, the perfect _man_. I would have to fight to contain this _thing _that surged inside of me for the rest of my life.

And I would be alone the whole time, because I had already made up my mind not to bring Anna into this. I knew that no matter what, I did not want to dampen that bright and cheerful spirit any more than I already had.

"Conceal...don't feel...don't let them know..." How many times did I mumble this to myself in that corner of my bedroom, flinching with every sheet of ice that surged from my feet? I stopped leaving the room altogether, trapping myself in a place that was suspended in an eternal winter.

But even so, the years passed by. It is almost a blur to me now, but there is one thing that stands out starkly in this period of darkness.

And it is that there is nothing quite so terrifying as the thing called _loneliness_.

You sit in a closed room. Everything is still. Too still. It is so quiet, you can hear the silence. It fills the empty room, trapping you, shoving your face down against the floor.

All sorts of things go through your mind at first – uncertainty, anxiety, fear, desperation...but over time, even those are drowned out by the sound of silence. All that's left is the certain knowledge that nobody knows what you are doing. Nobody knows what you are feeling or thinking. Nobody knows who you are.

Sometimes you want to just leave your cage. The door is there. But the fear of what will happen holds you back, for if even one person finds out what you are, everything will be over. The uncertainty of what will happen is as certain as death; it is simply a black and unfathomable 'end' that threatens to swallow you up whole, leaving nothing behind.

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**A/N: **Hehe of course the maid-prince romance. I had to.


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